Yes, no, perhaps
by Kerttu
Summary: How goes a usual morning between the nurturer and the nurtured? Postmovie hurtcomfort of ElSands.


Title: Yes, no, perhaps

Author: Kerttu

Pairing: El/Sands

Rating: PG-13 for some swearing

Disclaimer: RR owns them but really - as if anyone could own these guys! I will only play with them, then dust them off and put them back into the box, I promise.

Summary: Post-movie; the usual morning of the nurtured and the nurturer

AN: I kept having this image in my head, so in the end I just had to write it. Un-beta'd, so all mistakes are mine. Thank you Maureen for feeding my smutty mind. My first OUATIM vignette, so let me know what do you think.

Yes, no, perhaps

By Kerttu

The rising sun was just beginning to light the sparse bedroom in the Guitar Town with one bed. The cold morning light made only one of the occupants stir somewhat but he just tightened his arm around the smaller figure's waist and shifted closer.

The hugged one tensed and the change in the body next to him made El become awake. He opened his eyes, looked at his companion's bandaged head but didn't move.

At first there was nothing to sense but then the rhythm of breathing changed and El was sure Sands became aware of the mariachi's hand warming his chest through the blankets.

For a moment there was silence that was only punctuated by their breathing.

"El?" The American's voice was hesitant and unsure.

"_Si_."

The tension eased, but did not leave Sands's body.

El waited.

Slowly Sands shrugged his arm free of the blanket, hissed and flinched, because the wound in his upper arm hurt when he moved rapidly, and examined his face, touching lightly the thick bandage.

The next moment the arm fell back onto the bed. "I guess this wasn't a fucking nightmare after all."

"_No_."

Sands's breathing changed once more, quickening and El could not determine whether he was angered by his answer or whether he was fighting back tears. Then Sands drew a long breath and his breathing calmed down. He moved a little, the bed creaked at that. It was old and in its better days had seen all kinds of action.

"Why are you so…. cosy with me?" Sands drawled to sound bored but it came out merely tired.

"Because you have nightmares and I did not want to tie you down when you kicked and moaned." He felt Sands shiver under his hand and he quickly added: "It is also my bed."

After another pause Sands commented, now even more weary: "I do not trust you."

"Your body already does." El shifted a little, putting his other arm under his head.

A sharp surprised gasp and a stuttered "What?"

"You have slept like this for three weeks. The only way we both could get any sleep at all, I must add."

The next question was quiet enough to be missed: "Why?"

Although El was secretly inhaling the smell of Sands's hair, he heard it: "Why what?"

"Why did you learn to tap dance, you idiot! What do you think?" Irritation was both true and forced.

"I wanted to sleep." El simply answered.

"With me?" The smirk in the American's voice was weak but it was definitely there. El was not too surprised. Sands's mood swung like a tolling church bell. Ding: depression, deep and devouring; dong: anger, fierce and fiery. And sometimes weird moments of smugness. Then again, the man was strongly medicated and not too sane as El had learned during this period they had existed together.

Which had not been easy.

El felt his mouth quirk into a smile. "Perhaps." He let go of Sands and sat up. "You need to eat."

"Not hungry." Sands cautiously rolled on his back.

"I have heard that before." El hunted for his boots and pulled them on.

"It's a common sentence for… the maricahi cooking." Sands was again tracing the outline of the thick bandage that hid his face. He jumped when El's fingers grabbed his wrists. "Hey! Let go of me!"

"I will if you stop picking at it."

"There is not even anything left to peck at." The anger came off from Sands like a heat wave, he hissed and jerked to get free but El had not sat by his side for a month for nothing. He just rode the American's sudden wrath until Sands calmed down.

"You do need to eat." He said again. He did not let go but eased his grip, waiting.

"Fuck you!"

"Maybe later." At this Sands made a strange sound. "What?"

"Only you could say that and sound as if you meant it as a promise of eternal love. You are crazy, El."

El snorted, amused. "_Si_."

"Crazier than me, even."

"Definitely not."

"Oh, let me count the ways: you most likely kidnapped me from the hospital, sleep in my bed-"

"It is MY bed."

"Yeah-yeah, YOUR bed, you stupid fucker! You jingle when you move, you carry a guitar case with guns in it! Who is NOT crazy?"

"I did not say I was not crazy, I-"

Sands suddenly looked exhausted and sagged in his arms. "Yeah, heard you, heard you."

El released his hands, looked at him thoughtfully and settled down beside him.

"Would you rather sleep more?" His arm snaked back to hold Sands.

"And he claims he's saner than me," exclaimed Sands at no one in particular.

"Shh, sleep."

"With you?" Sands didn't seem to be too thrilled although he did relax.

"With me." El adjusted his hold slightly. "Eating can wait a few hours, it's still early. You need to rest, too. "

"And resting means sleeping with you, right?" Sands sank into the pillow, getting as comfortable as he could. El smiled again. Did he admit this or not, Sands found El's touch soothing and that fact tugged something deep inside El's heart. Suddenly Sands's obnoxious words did not sound revolting at all.

"Perhaps later. Now, just sleep."

Sands crumbled something but he was obviously still tired as the sleep claimed him quickly. El studied him, his features and his figure and was in a way glad the American could not see his eyes turning black with want.

Did he desire this man? Appeared that yes.

Would he want to admit that to Sands? Absolutely not.

Could it happen that something would come of this?

'Perhaps.'

El smiled and closed his eyes. They both needed their rest.


End file.
